Last Diary Entry of Victoria Rehd

Diary Entry: 6/28/2042

My name is Victoria Rehd and this will likely be my last entry. I will begin 21 years ago when this . . . all started. I was 12 at the time, living with my parents in a small apartment in Northside Minneapolis. It was like any ordinary day. My mother stayed home and homeschooled me while my dad worked close by at a military site. Looking back to simpler times, I remember how much my parents did for me and how they sacrificed everything for our family. My mother instilled good habits in me, such as never letting things go to waste and always appreciating the little things. On a late Friday before my birthday, my mom and I were sitting by the window waiting for my dad to come home as we usually do. At 10:21 PM, everyone’s life was changed when an immense flash of crimson light filled the sky from the southern horizon. My mom, in a panic, scrambled for the phone to call my dad because the flash came from the direction of his base. No response. A few moments later, all the lights in the city went out in an instant. The only source of light was that damned dreary maroon the night now always brings.

The only other thing I can remember from that night is my mom grabbing me and telling me we were going to bike to my dad’s base. I was so tired but as we biked the streets of the city, I saw people in the streets, broken bodies and glass, fire, and blood. I don’t know how we got to the base in time as I blacked out a couple blocks away.

When I came to, I could only make out three items in a poorly lit room: a cupcake, a locket, and a note. Upon reading the first sentence of the note, I forgot that the following day was my birthday and so much had happened. I causally picked up the cupcake and continued reading the note. It was from my father. He told me he was sorry that he could not be there as multiple cities were attacked by an unknown entity. He went on to explain that a large metal sphere came down over Chicago and turned the entire city into a pearlescent glass. My dad then said that St. Paul was the city that was hit in Minnesota, but that happened after my mom and I arrived at the base.

At this point, I dropped the cupcake and started to realize what room I was in: an old bunker my dad showed me years ago. My mom was worried about the world and took to becoming a prepper when she was not taking care of me. My father helped her by supplying the bunker with years’ worth of food, guns, and plenty more survival items. Looking around, I forgot about the note and wandered the place. It was quite a long journey of going through everything and realizing that this would probably be my new life. In my excitement of running through the halls, I crashed into a steel beam and got knocked out once again.

Another day passed and I woke up with a lot of blood on my head, crusting over into a massive scab. I let out the longest and loudest scream in my life as it echoed down this dark dank facility. I was hoping my parents would be around to rescue me, but they never came. After rummaging through the first-aid kit, I shoddily applied bandages on my head and went back to the room where I first awoke.

I continued reading the note and read the worst thing I ever could. My mom was shot by looters as she carried me into my father’s base. She sacrificed herself for me and gave me her locket. Tears instantly rushed down as I continued reading. My city, my mom, and my life were all over in one very short night. Apparently, my father placed me in this base before going back and finishing his “classified” work. The note told me to never leave the bunker and that he would come for me when he could. The note ended with a very short and tender haiku.

Dear Victoria

My sweet you are not ever alone

Know that I love you

I then picked up the small red heart-shaped locket and opened it, on one side it was my mom and dad at their wedding, and on the other was all of us on out vacation to Japan when I was seven. I remember exploring the cherry blossom gardens with my mom and doing Haiku with my dad. All those timeless memories of my innocent youth came to me in the moment. I wanted to cry, but I just couldn’t anymore. I went to the room prepared for me and just laid there, eyes open the whole night.

It was like that for many months. I started taking notes of my time here. The days melded together until I slowly started to make a life for myself. I begin reading every book in the bunker and I started to work on a garden inside a little greenhouse. I failed for many months before I got the hang of growing my own food. By the time I was 18, I realized my father was never coming back. I was doing quite well on my own, but the loneliness was getting to me. A couple years passed and the novels that accompanied me could no longer keep me sane. I needed something new. So, at the age of 21, I opened the bunker for the first time.

The site that was before me could only be described as bleak. The entire sky looked like it was dripping with blood, a red haze scouring across the ruins of a desecrated metal city. I took a deep breath and coughed as this air was so much thicker and dustier than my time in the bunker could have prepared me for. I prepared a backpack and decided to do a trek. What else could I do now? My journey into the city was surreal, it was like no one has been here for hundreds of years. I explored the city for a long time. For as desolate as it was, it was safer than I was worried about. The main dangers were the wild animals, the crumbling ruins, and the . . . survivors.

I’d like to forget about the survivors. My first encounter with one had me cautious as they were all decked out in slimy red ghillie suits. I had almost missed them when I was looking for souvenirs from the city to bring back. I tried communicating with them by leaving notes in their hunting paths. I quickly realized these survivors were no longer human. They lost all patterns of speech as they looked at the note while screeching and growling. I think they were looking for me.

I’m not quite sure how they came to be but all I know is that if you get bitten by them, you die. When I was hiding out in a skyscraper, I saw a pack of wolves getting torn apart by them. The howls and cries of agony kept me up all night. The next day, I went back down to get the gear I had to drop to outrun those creatures. As expected, only the bones were left of the wolves. But something perked me up as I heard the faint muffled cries of what I could only assume was a pup. It was the most adorable wolf pup I have saw in my entire life!

I brought him back and named him “Ashy!” He was such a wonderful friend who kept me sane and became my anchor. He was very playful yet loyal and we spent many nights cuddled up together as I read classic stories to him. Ashy helped me for many years. Together, we cleared a couple blocks around our base, and we managed to make a home for ourselves above ground.

However, not all great things can last. I am now 33 years old writing this note. I wiped out most of the “survivors” with hit and run tactics and brutal battles. I had no idea about what happened in St. Paul when it was glassed over. There was something much more devastating than an ordinary threat. Human in form, but with no similarities, the new creatures I found in my area recently were made of a pure red glassy substance. Sinewy tendrils also wrapped around them, and they latched onto anything living and absorbed them. Days later, more of these creatures were made with everything they enveloped. These creatures, alien in every way to me are called The Carmine.

Apparently, they were made when an extraterrestrial entity destroyed 441 metropolises across the world. It has been so long, but I forgot about the tales my father wrote about in the books of his I found one day. I hope he could have seen how long I survived!

The problem now is that The Carmine have found my safe haven and I can hear them banging on the seven-ton door. I am writing this while petting Ashy and holding onto the heart-shaped locket I was given so long ago. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out with my supplies. I am tempted to go out in a blaze of glory, but I still want to take my chances to live as long as I can with Ashy. I love you mom and dad. Thank you for giving me something to hold onto. If anyone is reading this, I have my own haiku for you.

The Carmine outside

If you’re reading this alive

I’ve already died